


Take it easy

by Anuna



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Musicians, Banter, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Musical References, Polyamory Relationship, UST, alternate universe - country rock band, epic duets, i am shameless ot3 dumpster trash and i feel good, unexpected partnership to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:28:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: When Miles and his band literally abandon Skye on an award show, twenty and something minutes before she's supposed to perform, she's assigned with two new partners she unexpectedly gets along with very well. The partnership continues and unresolved sexual tension seems to grow as Skye is trying to decide which one among the boys she's supposed to pick - and it's impossible to choose.





	Take it easy

**Author's Note:**

> This AU has been haunting my mind for the past year or even more, and since I was stuck at home at New Year's eve with nothing but The Eagles as my company, I figured I might as well sit down and start writing it. 
> 
> Just a note, though: I like old music. I like country music. That's what you'll find referenced here a lot, and I hope you won't find it too terrible. 
> 
> With this chapter I recommend: Take it easy, Lying eyes and New kid in town by The Eagles; Wildwood flower by June Carter Cash and Jackson by Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. (The versions from "Walk the line are very good and fun too.)
> 
> Happy New Year!

Don't let the sound of your own wheels drive you crazy. 

(The Eagles, Take it easy)

 

* * *

 

She inanely wonders who decided to turn this event into some kind of seventies show. She's sure she didn't hear this much music from the decade ever since …. well. She can't quiet remember, but there was one girl in the highschool who listened to The Doors and similar stuff. Skye thought that music was neat, but she was more into modern stuff herself.

 

She's sitting at an empty table and starting to feel like an idiot. Miles and the rest of the band are nowhere to be found, and she's starting to become really nervous. That's when the music starts again – and she looks up because this sounds good.

 

Someone is doing a cover of The Eeagles. She doesn't recognize the song immediately, but she knows it's The Eagles. The harmonies and the guitars are so specific and this music sounds like something that's supposed to bring you good memories. She has to squint to make out the band, because the light focuses on two leads. These guys are familiar, she thinks – one guitar player is blond, the other one dark haired and the high chairs are almost not tall enough for both of them. She takes a deep breath and tries to put Miles out of her mind.

 

The blond guy starts to sing. Okay, now she does recognize the song – it's Lying eyes – but that's not the point.

 

It's his voice. It's really soft, and really clear, and it's perfect for this song, which, she supposes, is hard to pull out. He's sitting, looking comfortable, playing and singing and the other guy is playing along, and the band is following them without a hitch.

 

The singer goes through first two verses on his own, and then on the chorus his stage partner joins him, and their voices blend so perfectly, Skye feels a shiver.

 

After the chorus they switch, and the dark haired guy starts to sing. His voice feels a bit deeper, but it also has the same soft and clear quality. At this point Skye's attention is completely on two of them, the way they're synchronized, the way they sound. By the second chorus she starts to quietly sing along and sway in her chair, letting the nostalgic mood of the song fill her.

 

By the end she's clapping while the melody seamlessly turns into Tequila sunrise and the blond haired man takes over. He smiles a little during this song and shares a few looks with the other guy. She can tell good band dynamic when she sees it – they look relaxed and they look like they know how to count on each other like this. The dark haired man looks content to sing backing vocals this time around. The song is soon done and once again she claps. The guys stand up to their full height and she notices absently how nice looking they are.

 

They leave the stage and that's when her night starts to fall apart.

 

“Miss Johnson?” the guy in the suit is not one of the performers. The way he's standing there makes her feel like he's the guy they send to give some bad news. She looks up and at first she doesn't understand what he's saying.

 

“Mister Lydon and his band... they've left,” he says.

 

“What do you mean, he left? We're supposed to go onto that stage in -”

 

“I know, Miss Johnson. But they've left,” the Suit Guy says.

 

“Please follow me,” he says as lights start to dim.

 

Skye does as he tells her. She tries to walk straight while the words settle in her brain and she realizes that Miles has bailed on her. He left her, entire band left her and she's all alone.

 

You're useless without us, he said so many times.

 

She's rushing after the Suit Guy who takes her to the large room behind stage. It's chaotic, with way too many people rushing, talking, getting ready. She loses the Suit Guy and abruptly stops trying to figure out where she's supposed to go. She's looking left and right, feeling lost and yes, useless, when someone takes her arm.

 

“Miss Johnson?”

 

She recognizes this voice. It's Jack Thompson, the producer.

 

“Mister Thompson,” she says as he's pulling her to the side, where there's less chaos and where she starts to feel her legs again. Hurt is welling up in her; and disappointment and humiliation, but she tells herself firmly to keep herself in check.

 

“It seems you're left without your band,” Thompson says. He frowns a little, like a guy who's trying to figure out how to solve a problem. Skye knows she should say something – but certainly not the things popping in her head. “Look, we have to solve this one pretty fast,” he tells her. He's just being practical, she tells herself. “Either we'll find you a band or we'll have to find someone to fill in,” he says. “Would you please wait here?”

 

With that he leaves her standing at that spot. She remains glued to it staring at the people around her. They're all doing something, they all seem to have a purpose and need to get something done. Her old feeling of being an outsider, a tiny girl with too big guitar rears its head back and her next impulse is to go. She'd go but suddenly it feels overwhelming and she's not sure where to go to – and that's when Thompson shows up again.

 

“Miss Johnson, I think we might have a solution,” he's saying. “If you agree.”

 

Only then Skye notices two men with him. It's those two. The guitar players.

 

“What kind of solution?” she asks as two men she watched on stage a few minutes ago step forward.

 

Oh God. He'll suggest that they perform instead of her.

 

“These are Grant Ward and Lincoln Campbell,” Thompson says. “You might have heard them back in there,” he says and Skye nods, trying to even out her breathing.

 

“Hey, it's okay,” the guy named Lincoln – the blond guy – he smiles nicely. “I know what you're thinking, but we have a suggestion. Let us go up there with you. We can totally do a couple of your songs,” he says. “What were you planning to sing?” he asks.

 

Skye opens her mouth – she needs to breathe in first – and then she starts to count the songs. There were supposed to be five, because she and Miles and the band, they were supposed to be the main thing of the evening, but Miles didn't even decide on last two songs. She blurts that out.

 

“How about we do three of yours and two of something else?” Grant Ward asks practically.

 

Her heart is beating really fast. At this point she has forgotten everything – her hair, her makeup, the way she looks. These guys are trying to help her and they're offering to perform her songs and all she wants is not to embarrass herself. “Johnny Cash is always a good choice,” Grant says. “Especially if you can do a duet.”

 

“I... uh. I'm pretty sure I can. Which one?” she hers herself ask. The confidence is completely fake.

 

“Jackson?” Lincoln suggests. “And you could sing Wildwood flower,” he says.

 

Skye nods. She knows both songs and even though she didn't sing either of them in ages, she's not going to think about it. She'll improvise.

 

“I'll follow you on Wildwood flower with my guitar,” Lincoln says easily, “and Grant is just so good with duets. You'll do great,” he tells Skye, and when he smiles, she somehow manages to smile back. “Don't worry. I know it's a last minute patch up, but it's going to be fine.”

 

“What about your band?” Skye asks.

 

“They can improvise,” Grant says and grins.

 

*

 

She is nervous like an absolute beginner when she steps out on that stage. No, it's worse – she's well aware of everything now, unlike a beginner. At this point everyone knows her band stood her up. That's a scandal alone. There are people whoa re now expecting her to muck up because, as they say, Skye Johnson is fake and can't really sing.

 

But she still walks out there. There's an applause. She leaves the microphone on its stand, nods and manages a smile. She's happy for the reflectors – paradoxically they're protecting her from the looks around the room. They may see her, but she's so blinded she can't see anyone sitting in that hall.

 

And then the music starts – just a solo guitar and a familiar slow melody – and Lincoln easily walks out to join her. His intro is light, almost cheerful, and he remains two steps behind her, in order not to steal her light.

 

Just before she's supposed to start singing he smiles again.

 

She starts singing while looking at him – because he's smiling and playing and the rhythm of his guitar is making her feel safe.

 

There's certain appreciation on his face – something only musicians do, when they're performing with someone for the first time and essentially getting to know one another. He's playing and somehow encouraging her, and she feels enough of connection to turn back to the audience for a bit. But then she turns back to him and the song remains a communication of two performers – and it's all over sooner than she's aware. Lincoln's fingers go through the final chords and then there's an applause. He leaves the guitar hanging from his shoulder and he's clapping too, and Skye realizes it was good.

 

Grant shows up then, and someone brings chairs and the guys sit on the side; which puts her in the middle and at the center of attention, because that's how they make it work. They play her songs pretty damn good, with just a slight difference in style and it's obvious they're not the Miles Lydon band, but someone else. However they're so good, and they're constantly referring to her, making her the star of the performance. One song becomes the other and the second one becomes the third and the tension has finally left her body.

 

By the time the applause finishes her blood is filled with adrenaline,the good kind – and when Grant Ward stands up next to her – and she has to look up, despite wearing very high heels, she briefly remembers that Johnny Cash was a very tall man himself.

 

“Ready?” he asks, just before the fast, almost forceful rhythm takes over.

 

The song demands a kind of tension which people singing this either have or not. She remembers performing it with Miles a couple of times and not being entirely happy. Miles was never good at imitating anyone, let alone Johnny Cash. Ward doesn't try to do that – he simply invites her into the duet.

 

The push and pull between them is somehow instantaneous. It's so different than Lincoln's quiet reassurance from the beginning, but even though they're essentially challenging each other, she still feels good. Their voices match well enough and this song too is over quickly – so fast in fact that it leaves her dizzy, just like the applause that follows.

 

And the size of that applause, and the way it leaves Skye's pulse beating tells her that she did _everything_ but embarrass herself tonight.

 

 


End file.
